


GoTC: He With Us?

by farad



Series: GoTC (Originally titled "Fluctuations") [1]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: "Ghosts of the Confederacy" series, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-07
Updated: 2010-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after Buck rolls off the roof . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	GoTC: He With Us?

**Author's Note:**

> part of the series that brings Chris, Buck, and Vin together.
> 
> Thanks for my betas, Charlotte, Dail, and all the wonderful people at DnF who let me play.

  
_CHRIS:  
Afternoon, Buck. Interrupt something?  
BUCK:  
Chris.  
BUCK:  
Hi. Hey, you old war dog! Good to see you, buddy. How you doing?  
CHRIS:  
Easy, big fella. Folks will talk.  
(Buck laughing)  
CHRIS:  
Got a job. You interested?  
BUCK:  
Yeah? What's it pay?  
CHRIS:  
Five dollars.  
BUCK:  
A day? A week?  
CHRIS:  
I know it ain't much.  
BUCK:  
How are the odds?  
CHRIS:  
Three... four to one.  
BUCK:  
It's just our kind of fight. How'd you know I was here?  
CHRIS:  
I make a point of knowing who's in town. Live longer that way.  
VIN:  
He with us?  
BUCK:  
Is he with you? There going to be ladies where you're going?  
CHRIS:  
I imagine so.  
BUCK:  
Then imagine I'm in._

from "Ghosts of the Confederacy"  
(transcript taken from Zennerd's excellent website: http://www.geocities.com/zennerd/pilot1.html)

Buck pulled his shirt on, even as he stomped his way into his boots. "Saloon?" he grinned at Chris. "Fill me in on the details?"

Peripherally, Chris was aware of Vin next to him, a subtle shift of the long body as he leaned to one side, one hip jutting out. Buck was aware of it too, his mustache twitching as his blue eyes, darker than Vin's, slipped to study the pose.

Chris felt the stir in his belly, stronger now; he'd felt it first when he'd seen the young man in the apron, seen him holding the broom. A sweet thing, he'd thought, pretty in a young way. He'd let the heat dissipate, not really interested – until a minute or so later when that same young man reappeared on the boardwalk, apron gone and hands now holding a long-bore rifle. Not only holding it, but loading it with familiar ease.

The heat had returned then, stronger, knotting in his belly in a way he hadn't felt it a long while. Those hands . . . .

"Got a bottle in my room," Chris said evenly, distracting himself from the thought, and Buck stopped, caught off-guard.

But only for a second.

He looked up, catching Chris' eyes even as he slowly resumed buttoning his shirt. "How long you been in town?"

Chris grinned at him, liking the little flash of jealousy he had kindled. "Late yesterday afternoon. Went by the saloon, you were already . . . involved for the evening."

Buck arched an eyebrow, unable to hide his smile. He was momentarily mollified, Chris knew, and in truth, Chris had gone looking for him. Maybe that was why he had been so easily attracted to Vin; it'd been a while since he and Buck had spent time together, and he was feeling the need.

"So you got a room and a bottle." Buck glanced at Vin, then back to Chris, his question clear.

Chris' arched one eyebrow of his own; he didn't have an answer to the question, but he damned sure wanted to find out. The knot in his stomach was growing, fed by the sight of Buck's state of undress and the memory of that hard body. "Hear those guns little while ago?" he asked, by way of explanation.

For a second, Buck looked confused, but they'd been friends for a long time. After a second, he grinned, his hips hitching forward slightly as he made the connection Chris had left for him. "Lot of 'em going off all the time 'round here," Buck answered. "Guess I shoulda recognized yours, though."

Chris loved a good gun fight. And Buck loved Chris after one. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Chris knew he wasn't the only one winding up.

Another movement from the side, then a low, raspy voice asked, "Y'all wanna go somewhere and talk about these Seminole?"

Buck laughed, his eyes again catching Chris'; he nodded once, and Chris slapped him on the shoulder. He'd missed Buck. And even if they couldn't get Vin involved, he knew he and Buck would have some fun of their own.

They turned at the same time to look at their companion, and this time, Chris watched as Buck really looked at Vin, seeing the younger man again as he knew Buck was: young, but something in those wide eyes kept Vin from being innocent. This one had seen more of life than most. Pretty at first glance – big blue eyes, long, curly brown hair, streaked blond in places from the sun, but mostly a medium brown, supple lips chapped and pink from exposure to the desert. But those qualities, while drawing first attention, didn't really hide the strong lines and angles of a masculine face, the square jaw and wide brow.

The slender, flat body hidden under the shirt and bandana, long legs hidden under pale pants and scuffed boots.

Chris felt a wash of want as he thought about those long legs, and Buck's longer legs, a tangle of pale limbs against the blue bedspread of his hotel bed.

"You shoot too?" Buck asked, grinning as a slight flush crept up Vin's neck.

Chris was appreciating the sight as well, surprised by this unexpected shyness on Vin's part. Maybe he was as sweet as Chris had first thought. Maybe as innocent.

But the way he handled a gun, way he handled himself at that cemetery spoke of a life lived hard. He couldn't be that innocent – hell, he was old enough for his dick to think for itself.

"Somebody had to," he answered with a casual shrug. "Ain't right fer an innocent man ta hang."

Buck grinned at him, but his eyes cut back to Chris and Chris shrugged. "Let's get on up to my room, talk about this some," Chris heard himself say.

He wasn't surprised at the chortle of laughter that came from his friend, or the tumble of words. But then, that was part of why he'd come looking for Buck.

Without a thought, Buck reached out, one long arm sliding around Vin's shoulders. Chris noticed that the touch caused instant tension in the wiry frame, Vin's back becoming rigid and his lean disappearing.

Buck, however, ignored it, going right on in his friendly manner. "Well, Junior, no matter what my old friend Chris here has told ya, he loves a good gun fight, and he loves a good drink after a good gun fight." He grinned, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively before slapping the younger man on the back and stepping away. "Buck," he said, holding out the hand that had just been around the other's shoulders. "Buck Wilmington."

"Vin Tanner," was the softly drawled response.

They shook, and Chris saw the way Buck was looking at the long-fingered hand in his. Saw the twitch of that mustache as the corners of Buck's lips tilted in a grin.

Saw the image of those fingers wrapped around Buck's erection, sliding sensually along the thick shaft . . .

"You boys coming?" Chris asked as he turned and walked away from them, his groin swelling uncomfortably.

As he turned, he saw Buck looking at Vin who was looking back at him. "A room, a bottle – what more could we ask for?" he said and got a slight chuckle in return.

They fell in behind Chris, and Chris could feel Buck's eyes on him. The attraction between them was familiar and comfortable and as old as their long years of friendship. Maybe longer, he thought with a grin; they'd met on opposite sides of a bar fight, ended up jerking each other off in a corner of a jail cell before they'd even known each other's names.

Now, he could feel that attraction stretching between them, winding them together. He hadn't lied, he had come looking for Buck last night. Every so often the itch built, the itch that only Buck could scratch.

So why, he wondered passingly, was he dragging this kid into it? 'Cause he looked good loading a rifle? 'Cause he had eyes and hair and lips pretty as a girl, but acted with the decisiveness and conviction of a man? 'Cause in that instant when their eyes had met, he'd felt something in Vin that he hadn't felt since the first time he'd looked into Buck's eyes a lifetime ago?

He didn't really want to think about it, wanted to concentrate on the need coiling tighter and tighter, fed by the rush of the gun fight, the idea of being alone with Buck and Vin. The idea of having them both.

Could he have them both? That image again, four long legs wrapped around each other, against the backdrop of the bedcover . . . .

If nothing else, the gun fight earlier had one positive effect: people cleared out of the way, giving Chris, and thus his companions, ample room to make it to the hotel.

No one questioned three men coming in together or going up the stairs, Chris still leading.

He did notice, though, as they reached the first floor landing, that Vin was hanging back a little, reluctance showing in the fine lines of a frown tugging at his tight lips, the white-knuckled grip he held on the rifle he still carried.

By the time they reached the second floor, Buck was still at Chris' back but Vin was moving slower, more wary.

Chris slowed, glancing past Buck to the younger man. Something in the way Vin was holding himself led Chris to the idea that this hesitation wasn't about something simple.

Buck noticed it too, pulling away from Chris to step back toward Vin. "Don't worry," he chuckled in that way he had, "we won't bite – well, unless you want us to!"

Instead of reassuring, though, the words seemed to make Vin even more cautious. He had made it to the top of the stairs, one hand resting on the banister. No one else was around, the middle of the afternoon a rather slow time in the hotel business apparently, and Chris suspected that Tanner wasn't certain whether it was good or bad.

He laid one hand on Buck's shoulder as he stepped forward, squeezing a little as a sign of affection and a sign of caution. He didn't get too close to Vin, but he met the man's gaze with the same directness he had used in the street mere hours before.

"You're planning to ride with us to fight off leftover soldiers harassing an Indian village but you're afraid to be alone in a room with us?" He pitched his words quiet and with just a trace of amusement – because he was, just a little, amused. "I'm the same man I was in the saloon, Vin."

Tanner's back straightened a little, and his chin came out. But his shoulders relaxed and he grinned, a sort of cock-eyed shift of his lips. "Reckon so," he answered just as quietly. He stepped forward, nodding to Buck.

Chris turned around, leading the way to a door at the end of the hallway.

The hotel wasn't the best Chris had ever been in, nor was it the worst. He'd met the owner, Mr. Wheeler, the night before, a shady guy with just a little too much smarm to make Chris happy.

But the bed was clean and it was soft and it was big – and that was important right now. He hoped it was, anyway.

He was shrugging off his coat, dropping it and his hat onto one of the room's two chairs as Buck came through the door.

"Whoo whee, Chris," his friend laughed, tossing his hat to the dresser. "What stage coach did you rob?"

In his usual Buck-style, he launched himself onto the bed, landing on his back, head in the pillows, ankles crossed comfortably. The mattress was full and soft and Buck's body settled slowly into the cushion with hardly a shake to the floor.

Chris reached for the almost-full bottle of whiskey on the room's small table, pouring some into his own tin mug, then some into a cup that came with the room. One of them would have to use the bottle, he thought, but not with any particular concern.

He turned, handing his mug to Buck with a grin as Buck let his fingers brush over Chris'.

Vin was still in the doorway, leaning on the frame, his arms crossed over his belly, his rifle propped against his side. He looked more relaxed, but the door was still open and he hadn't actually stepped into the room.

As he handed him the hotel's cup, Chris said, "We're not gonna rape you or shang-hai you. But I'd rather not be talking to the rest of the town."

For the barest instant, something flickered in the blue eyes, like the shimmer of sky-lightening, barely there then gone. The tan complexion paled to a sallow just noticeable in the room's indirect light and Chris frowned.

But Vin merely nodded once, taking the cup as he pushed himself back up. He didn't seem to hesitate as he stepped into the room and pushed the door closed behind him, but he did gulp some of the whiskey. The butt of the rifle was in his other hand, his grip on it tight.

Chris moved back to the table, picking up the bottle and drinking deep himself. Buck, not surprisingly, was talking again.

"I guess you boys won your battle, huh," he grinned at Chris, his eyes running over the length of Chris' body. "Them cowpokes from Texas?"

Chris nodded, wiping at his mouth with the back of one hand. "Wanted to hang the town's healer – Nathan. Seemed like their reasons had more to do with his color than his skills."

Buck drained the rest of the mug, holding it out for a refill. "We done fought that war, big dog. You gonna get yourself killed reliving it over and over."

Chris stepped back to the bed, putting one knee on it so that he could lean forward to pour more whiskey. As he stretched, Buck's other hand rose, touching Chris' face. "Though I do like to help you wind down afterwards." His fingers moved slowly, trailing over Chris' cheek and up into his hair.

As Chris raised the bottle from the mug, Buck leaned up, his lips brushing over Chris'.

The kiss wasn't long, or deep, a casual sign of affection with a promise of future passion. It wasn't the usual welcome they shared after time apart, but then, they didn't usually have an audience.

Chris returned it, relishing the softness of Buck's mouth, the brief slip of that flexible tongue as it teased along his lips before drawing back. His cock stirred anew, remembering the feel of that agile mouth as well.

"Been a while," Buck breathed against him as the kiss ended. "Sorry I missed you last night."

A slight noise from behind drew their attention, but Chris didn't move, letting Buck look for him. Buck grinned, glanced at Chris, then said, "You gonna shoot us with our pants down? That ain't nice, boy."

Chris grinned, catching Buck's eyes again.

"Ain't no boy," Vin said, his voice rough. "Ain't gonna be used like one, neither."

Chris didn't move, but he said loud enough for Vin to hear, "Told ya we ain't gonna rape ya, Vin. Put the gun up. You wanna leave, go on." He paused, looking at Buck who was watching Vin past him. "But you wanna stay, I can promise you won't regret it." He waited another second or so before acting.

The whiskey bottle was an obstacle, but he could make do; he caught the back of Buck's head, pulling him in close and taking the kiss he should have had earlier.

At the first touch, Buck tensed, surprised, but he surrendered just as quickly, relaxing into Chris touch. Chris had thought to be patient, but as Buck's lips parted, the need he had tried to ignore almost overwhelmed him.

He'd never been struck by lightning, but the first time he and Buck had kissed – not the night in the jail, but sometime later – he'd thought that it must feel something like this. His whole body seemed charged suddenly, his skin tingling, wanting to be touched, his muscles tight and hot.

He wanted to dive into the other man, to consume and be consumed by him, to become him. He'd felt this way with Sarah, an infinity ago, but their joinings had never been this ferocious.

His need for her had never been this violent.

By the time they broke to breathe, he felt light-headed, partly from the kiss and partly from the shock of complete, desperate arousal.

"Chris," Buck moaned, struggling to sit up. "Been too long." He was breathing hard as well, the hand holding the mug trembling enough to slosh the liquor out so that it splattered along his shirt. It gave the room a sharp smell that complemented the growing musk of sex, and drew Chris to take another swig from the bottle.

As he did, he turned, looking to put the bottle down so he could use both arms, and he was pleasantly surprised to find Vin still in the room.

Even better, the younger man was looking flushed and confused but also aroused, his pants too tight to hide the evidence of his own attraction.

Chris caught his gaze, saw the fear in it but also the desire. He took one step, holding out one hand as he set the bottle onto the dresser with the other. He didn't push, didn't say anything as Vin looked from him to the offered hand then over to Buck.

"Both of you?" The question was a rasp of sand on stone, his fear tinkling through it like ice on glass.

Chris didn't understand, but Buck, oddly, did. His voice was warm and rich behind Chris. "You can stop anytime you want," he said, and Chris heard the creak of the floor boards as Buck moved to the edge. "Chris ain't lying – we're not gonna force ya to do anything you don't want to."

He drew himself up then, standing to toe off his boots, put down the mug, and shrug off his shirt which he'd never finished buttoning. But Chris knew he was watching Vin, like Chris was.

Vin swallowed, his fingers tightening on the stock of the gun he still held. But he wasn't aiming it – and better, one hand was sliding slowly, suggestively, along the barrel.

Buck chuckled, reaching for the buttons of his pants. "Looks to me like you know what you want," he said, pointing toward Vin's hand with his chin. "Bet I can find somewhere more exciting for you to put them fingers to work."

Vin blushed then, scarlet hues swirling over his sharp features and making his lips even pinker. But he didn't back away. Instead, he looked directly at Chris.

It wasn't the same as when he'd kissed Buck, but something passed between them as well, something like what he'd felt in the street. It didn't have the shock of kissing Buck, but instead it had an odd comfort, like a favorite old shirt or a warm fire on a cold night.

And it fed the fire in his groin.

Slowly, Vin set the gun aside, laying it on the dresser top, the butt near the bottle of whiskey. Close, easy to reach if someone came through the door.

Still slow, he moved up until his chest just touched Chris' waiting hand.

Chris nodded, heard Buck chuckle beside him, even as he leaned down to slide off his pants.

Chris turned his hand palm out, letting his fingers rest on Vin's chest. He could feel several layers of cloth under his touch, and beneath even that, a heart beating fast and hard. Scared, but not enough to back out.

Chris stepped closer, his other hand wandering up Vin's arm to rest on one shoulder. "Take your hat off," he ordered, but he let himself smile slightly.

Vin flushed just a little more, but he did as he was told, one hand rising unsteadily to pull at the wide brim. As it came off, strands of hair fluttered around his face, brushing along his cheeks and jaw and Chris' fingers. The smell of leather and grass and gun oil mixed in the space between them, scents that added to Chris' sense of place.

He wasn't aware of pulling Vin close, but he was aware of the solid weight against him, the persistent beat of a heart against his chest, the stronger smells of the desert and the man. One hand fisted into knotted hair still warm from the hat, the other gathered a handful of rough fabric at the small of the arched back, and then they were kissing.

It was nothing like kissing Buck – and everything like it.

Warm and wet, but sloppy – Vin didn't kiss much, Chris thought, didn't quite understand what it could do – when it was done right.

But he was enthusiastic, and like Buck, he gave in quickly to Chris' pressure, accepting the curious invasion. He tasted of whiskey and tobacco, and he sucked on Chris' tongue with a force that grew painful.

As Chris pulled himself away with a wrench that left him panting, he was aware of two things: Vin's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, holding him with surprising strength, and Buck was leaning against the bed, naked and laughing.

"You boys sure are pretty together," Buck chirped. "But Junior, you need to loosen up a bit. Chris ain't going nowhere."

Vin stiffened in Chris' arms, and Chris understood that Vin was here for him – not for Buck, not for the fun of a three-some.

It felt somewhat intimidating, but also flattering; he knew he was attractive to men and women alike, he was rarely at a loss for bed partners when he wanted them.

But it was rare for him to want someone the way he wanted Vin. Watching him in that cemetery had sparked something in him, something primal.

It hadn't happened since he'd met Buck.

And the thought of Vin and Buck . . .

He let his nose graze along Vin's cheek, both amused and annoyed by the coarse bristles that were growing in. "It's all right," he murmured, "I like a little enthusiasm." He licked lightly at the tender spot between the hard ridge of Vin's jaw and his neck.

The stiffness seemed to fade away, Vin leaning even closer against Chris, sighing slightly. His body bent, so that Chris' hand slipped lower, cresting over the curve of his lower back and up along the swell of his ass.

And a nice ass it was, round and taut, hard muscles from years of riding and working.

Chris' erection pulsed at the thought – and felt an answer pulse from a hard length pressed against it.

"Be easier without so many clothes," Buck's voice rolled from behind Chris, his mustache tickling Chris' ear.

Vin blinked, steadied himself and drew slightly away – enough for Buck's hand to slip around Chris and start on the buttons of Chris' black shirt.

His eyes, bluer now, if that were possible, watched the motion of the fingers as they moved down Chris' body, exposing more of Chris' chest. Chris found himself resting comfortably against his friend's broad body, enjoying the pressure of Buck's cock at his back and Vin's still nestled against his own.

"Strip for me," he said, letting one hand move to tug at the wide leather suspender on one shoulder. "Wanna see you."

The blush again, and he could feel the weight of those eyes as they rose, tracing a path back up his chest to meet his look. But they didn't stop there, moving past him to catch Buck.

He felt the rumble in Buck's chest that said the big man was laughing, but the actual sound of it never left his throat. Instead, Buck said mildly, "Figure you can tell I ain't hiding no gun, Vin. Doubt you got anything I ain't seen before."

At that moment, Buck started tugging on Chris' shirt, pulling it from his pants. The movement forced Vin back and slightly away, and Chris saw the uncertainty again.  
"Go ahead," he urged. To encourage, he found the buckle of his own gun belt, drawing it open with no effort and no thought. He did lay it on the corner of the dresser closest to the bed, almost on top of Vin's rifle – one couldn't be too careful – before letting Buck pull his shirt completely off.

Vin turned to one side, untying the pink bandana and dropping it to lay on his hat, which had somehow found its way to the floor earlier. He stepped to the door, and for a second, Chris wondered if he was going to leave, but he only used it to lean on while he pulled off his boots.

He didn't face them when he straightened, still turned to one side, but Chris knew he was aware of their eyes.

"Ain't he a little shy for your tastes?" Buck whispered in his ear just before he nipped at the earlobe.

Chris snorted, then whimpered just a little as Buck's hands found the opening to his pants. But instead of pulling at the buttons to free him, one hand was rubbing languidly over the bulge there, creating a friction that was just on the border of discomfort.

"Purty though, those big eyes. I'd like to teach him how to use that mouth."

Chris knew the words were as much to wind him up as they were a true reflection of Buck's feelings. They'd been in bed enough over the years to know each other's likes and dislikes, and even though this was the first time with another man, it wasn't the first time with another person.

The image of Vin's mouth wrapped around Buck's dick, Buck's hands buried in those wiry curls, guiding –

He actually moaned as Buck squeezed hard, the fabric of his pants burning against his sensitive flesh.

Buck chuckled as he said more loudly, "You're scaring the company, Chris."

Chris opened his eyes, unaware he'd actually had them closed, to find Vin looking at him. His striped shirt was off, exposing his worn union top, and his suspenders hung at his sides, pulling at the waist of his pants.

He was slender, the pants hanging on his bony hips, and the sharp plane of his sternum visible above the stretched neckline of the undergarment.

But the skin he saw was tan, as brown as his face and hands, and when he turned away and peeled out of the sleeves of the top of the union suit, Chris knew the younger man wasn't afraid of stripping down outside when he was working.

He was slender, but he was wiry, compact muscle carried close to the bone. His body was long, his spine prominent in the center of his back, but making a sort of curve just before it disappeared under the lower layers of his clothes.

Scars, too, Chris noticed, and not the ones commonly associated with a pleasant childhood. A couple of slender welts, from a lash of some sort, several puckers from bullets. One blob of ridges high up on his shoulder blade, the scar of a burn that musta hurt like hell.

None of them were new though, all carrying the white edge of age and wear.

He bent forward, the knobs of his spine more prominent, and Chris drew in a deep breath as he watched the pants drop away. They landed with a thick 'umph' around his feet, heavy and dusty, and exposing union suit leggings as worn as the top was. Now, the heavy weight of the top of the garment dragged at the bottom, but the buttons held firm, the cloth caught just below his belly button, but riding low.

"I like a man who's got better things to spend his money on than drawers," Buck said, finally getting to the buttons on Chris' pants. "Like better what's under 'em, don't you agree, Chris?"

The last was for Vin's sake, as the young man had stilled again, his shoulders rigid.

Chris opened his mouth to agree, but Buck's fingers wormed their way into the opening they had just created and rubbed along the bare skin of his erection, and all he could do was gasp.

Vin turned back to them, his eyes drawn instantly to Buck's hand which was pulling Chris' erection from his pants.

Chris couldn't stop himself from reacting as Buck touched him with the familiarity he had been looking for. As Buck thumbed back his foreskin, his cock tingling in the sudden exposure, he rolled his head on Buck's shoulder. His own hands were clutching at Buck's arms as they encircled him, and he shifted, spreading his legs to give his friend more access.

"That's what I like," Buck said, his lips moving along Chris' neck as his hand pumped rhythmically. "A man who's happy to see me."

Instinctively, he closed his eye, concentrating on the physical pleasure; Buck was working him perfectly, building the craving like a baker stoking the fire.

He let himself drift on the excitement threading through his limbs, through his groin, barely aware of anything but the contact at his crotch.

Sound slipped through the fog of his distraction, soft words that took a beat for his brain to render into thought.

" . . . . done this before?" Buck, but with a softness to the sound that usually meant he was talking to a woman or to Steele, his horse. Gentle, that tone.

"Told ya," a rougher tone, almost a snarl, but the drawl was honey thick and just as sweet, "ain't no virgin."

"Didn't say you were," Buck soothed, and his motions slowed a little, getting more of Chris' scattered attention, "but there's a difference 'tween having to do something and wantin' to."

There was no answer, just a waft of air over his heated flesh. With effort, he opened his eyes, which was the only thing that prepared him for the first wet contact of Vin's tongue on him.

The sight alone was almost enough to push him over the edge; Vin knelt before him, still wearing his drawers but nothing else, his brown skin coarse with goosebumps – but not from the temperature of the room, which was hot and clinging.

His nipples were small and dark and pointed, and a slight trail of hair burnished the center of his torso. He bore scars here, similar to the ones on his back, and one that was still new enough to show pink. It looked like a knife had dissected from his shoulder down over one side of his chest and around his ribs before being drawn away, not a deep cut, but deep enough that it had probably needed stitches, but no one had been around to sew them.

His hair was even more tousled now, and damp at the ends, clinging to his neck and anywhere else it touched. His eyes were closed, and he was hunched forward, one arm braced on his thigh to give him balance as he stretched forward, the muscles of his neck corded with the effort.

Chris wasn't certain he'd ever seen anything more sensual, nor felt anything more erotic. The very tip of Vin's tongue, pink and pointed, barely touched the end of his cock, catching a thick drop of his pending release and drawing it back for taste. Slender strands webbed between them, fragile and iridescent, catching in the stray rays of the shifting sunlight.

Behind him, a sound caught in Buck's throat, and Chris watched, mesmerized, as the other man shifted, one arm releasing Chris to touch Vin's temple, pushing at the long hair.

Vin opened his eyes at the touch, blinking, and Chris heard someone say, "Suck me," and knew it was his own voice.

The blue eyes looked up at him, wide and open but not innocent. Chris read the look, knew that Vin wanted to, yet also knew that Vin was fighting something else.

Buck's fingers trailed behind Vin's ear, pushing hair along before them, and he whispered, "You want this."

Chris wasn't certain to whom the statement was directed, but he didn't care as Vin leaned in again, lips parting slightly to show just a hint of pink undulating within.

Pressure on his hips confused him for a split second, until he sorted out the points and realized that Buck was holding him still.

"Slow and easy," Buck said lightly, "no hurry, no need to choke yourself. That ain't fun for none of us."

Like he was giving lessons, Chris thought just before that mouth closed on him and he lost all ability to think.

Lost in a euphoric haze, he registered little things in bright flashes of awareness – the pinch of Buck's fingers holding his hips as he tried to thrust, the lush haven engulfing half of him, the desperate itch of the untouched other half, the soft nips along his throat and jaw as teeth nibbled and a second mouth teased.

"God," he gasped, wanting more, needing more. Unable to move his hips, he did the next best thing, grabbing for the source of the precious blanket. His fingers caught Vin's head, sinking through the mire of hair to dig into his scalp, pulling –

"Chris, no!" Buck's voice was hard in his ear, startling, then bruising blows to his lower inner arms forced him back to some sort of control.

He staggered, Buck catching his weight and holding him up. Vin was on his hands and knees, several feet away, gasping, his eyes watering.

"Easy, easy," Buck said, his hands rubbing soothingly over Chris' chest. "Get your breath."

The words weren't for Chris, though, they were for Vin who was looking up now, fear glittering through the seeping wetness, but twining with a rising anger.

Chris drew himself up, not pushing Buck away but getting his own feet under him. "Sorry," he said, his mouth thick. "Felt too good. Didn't mean to hurt ya." 

The anger dulled down a little, the fear not as much.

Buck's hands eased off of him and the larger man moved away carefully. At a spot about half way between Chris and Vin, he crouched down so that he was eye level with the other man. "You all right, Vin?"

It was the first time he had used Vin's name, and the sound of it was tender, his whole demeanor considerate.

Vin looked at him, his own gasps slowing and deepening. He didn't speak, but he did nod as he sat back on his heels.

Once more, Buck put out his hand, lightly touching Vin's temple and brushing at his hair. Chris understood that this was something Buck had already learned, a gesture that calmed the younger man.

"Chris gets a might impatient," he said with a smile. "He don't mean nothing by it."

Vin nodded again, but something in his body uncurled a little more.

Buck cupped his hand, letting it fold along Vin's face, his thumb brushing over Vin's lips. "It don't have to hurt," he said quietly. "Shouldn't hurt."

With a patience that Chris had seen in no one other than Buck, the big man moved forward, giving Vin every opportunity to draw away. For a heartbeat, Vin tensed again, and Chris thought he might. In that instant, he felt a sort of remorse, knowing that if he lost his chance with Vin, it was his own fault.

His own need, which had ebbed in the aftermath of his attempt to appease it, dipped even lower.

Until Buck's lips brushed against Vin's, a benign contact that was more to reassure than incite.

For Vin, it must have worked, because he didn't move in the aftermath, other than to lick his lips.

Buck pressed in again with a little more energy – not forceful, but he licked out as well, tracing across the swollen curves.

After a few seconds, Vin's lips parted, and he inched forward, inviting.

Buck didn't have to be asked twice.

Chris edged his way backwards until he was sitting on the bed. He took his boots off distractedly, his attention riveted to the scene before him. He loved to watch Buck at work; the big man could be imposing, great to have as back-up in a fight.

But in the bedroom, he was as compassionate as a teenaged girl with a litter of new kittens. It was that quality that had gotten them through their first few times together, when Chris had been drunk and angry at the world, concerned only with his own satisfaction.

It had been the reason he'd finally come back sober, accepting what Buck offered instead of taking what he wanted, and found out that he got so much more when he let Buck make some of the decisions.

Like now. Watching them, he knew he was seeing another of the infamous Wilmington lessons in sex, but damned if it wasn't well worth the wait.

Chris had had no doubt that Vin knew about sex, and he had suspected that like most men out in this wild land, he knew about sex with men. If he'd given it a lot of thought, he might have deduced that some of that knowledge had been garnered painfully, and he saw now that Buck, with his own honed instincts about people, had clued into it almost from the first, certainly by the time they'd entered the bedroom.

He was kissing Vin, exploring the younger man's mouth, but not with the fervor and soul-sucking intensity that Chris himself had tried. Buck was tasting, sampling, his tongue moving in Vin's mouth but exchanging pleasantries more so than trying to swallow Vin whole. His hands were on the other man, but as he'd done with Chris, he soothed and explored, one arm around his shoulders, the other currently teasing the hard nub of a nipple.

Vin was making little sounds, deep in his throat, and he stroked over Buck as well, but his movements were more clumsy. He wasn't accustomed to giving pleasure, Chris thought, more used to having it taken from him.

Like Chris had been, he thought with a sort of sadness. Well, Buck would teach him, and teach him well.

They were good together, Buck's dark hair against Vin's lighter, Buck's pale skin against Vin's tan. Buck was big, and though Vin wasn't small, he was smaller than Buck; he leaned back, arching into Buck and going to his knees as they continued to kiss and caress. With the efficiency that Chris knew well, it didn't take Buck long to slip a hand under the waist of the drawers, the outline of his large hand clear as it curved over one side of Vin's ass.

Buck pulled back a little, still kissing, but now angling to give attention to Vin's jaw and throat. He spoke around his mouthings, his tone husky. "Be easier without this in the way." He had his other hand on Vin's hip, pushing at the loose material there. Chris studied the area Buck was slowly unveiling, liking the curve of the flesh as it rose to meet the bone.

Buck pushed more, and the loose cloth gave way, sliding down to catch between the two men. It fell lower in the back, exposing a curve of hip and ass that made Chris salivate. Jealousy spiked through him as Buck touched that flesh, stroking and kneading, and eliciting more noises from Vin.

Chris' cock perked as more of Vin was bared, and it came back to full attention as Buck freed the garment from its trap; it had been snagged on Vin's erection which was visible now, slender and dripping with an enthusiasm that Buck seemed to draw from the most reluctant of suitors.

"Bed," Chris said loudly and with no question. It was time.

He heard Buck chuckle, then watched as the big man pulled himself and Vin up.

Vin didn't resist, hardly seemed to notice they were moving. His eyes were closed, one arm clinging to Buck's shoulders while the other was around his waist. His back was bent, and Chris saw now, without the cover of his underwear, that Vin's spine curved unnaturally, causing one hip to rise higher than the other. Vaguely, he wondered how Vin managed to stay in the saddle, wondered if he could – that tilt had to hurt, especially over a long period of time.

But it wasn't his chief thought at present; now, his chief thought was on getting those two to the bed, seeing those well-made bodies lying on top of each other, grinding and grabbing and begging.

They moved, or, rather, Buck did, drawing Vin along to where Chris sat. He rose as they neared, dropping his own pants to the floor and stepping out of them with scant notice, more intent on pulling the union suit the rest of the way from Vin. The younger man was happily sucking on one of Buck's nipples, and Chris envied Buck's chest.

"Learns quick," Buck said, catching Chris' thought. He stopped at the side of the bed, looking at Chris over Vin's shoulder. "Come here," he said.

It was a little awkward with Vin between them, but Chris didn't mind. Kissing Buck was always a pleasure, and having his erection pressed against the firm mounds of Vin's ass was damn near close to bliss. Vin was a bit unprepared for the contact, and he grunted as Chris crowded against him.

"Easy," Buck murmured, one of his hands running over Vin's side. His other tucked around Chris' neck, drawing them all even closer as he shared the taste Vin had left in his mouth with Chris.

It was a nice taste, Chris' own flavor mixed heavily into it.

As they came up for air, Chris wove a hand between the other two, exploring the flat plane of Vin's belly, the dusting of hair that dropped below his belly button, the plaint flex of his skin as Chris skimmed over it. Inadvertently, he nudged the column of Vin's erection, and the young man jerked against him. Between them.

Buck tilted his head to one side, indicating the bed. "How you wanna do this?"

Chris thought about it for a minute. If it'd been a woman, as it had been in the past, it'd be simple – one of them in her mouth, the other between her legs. If she was really into it, they'd both be between her legs, one on each side.

The first option was still possible with Vin. The question, though, had more to do with whether Vin would go for it. Somehow, Chris didn't think he would.

As if reading his mind, Buck said, "Been a while, I reckon, since he's found any pleasure. Bet he tastes right fine." He arched his eyebrows suggestively, offering, Chris knew, to go down on Vin.

"I'm right here," Vin said, his voice edgy. He was pushing against Buck, trying to draw free, and one hand had fallen to Chris' arm to stop those touches. "Seems like I oughta get – "

"Wanna fuck you," Chris said, turning so that he was speaking into Vin's ear. "You gotta problem with that?"

Vin stilled completely, hardly breathing, and Chris wondered if he had once again pushed too far. A shard of frustration bit deep, pricking his anger; he didn't like dancing like this, didn't like feeling that he was having to court. Hell, if he'd wanted a woman, he coulda found one of those easy enough, and he and Buck could been doing it now –

"Yeah," Vin said, "you can fuck me. But only if he fucks you."

For a second, he saw something he rarely had the chance to see: Buck Wilmington's face in complete surprise.

It wasn't from the idea of the act though; after several years of learning to trust that Buck knew more about pleasure than Chris could probably ever try, he'd asked the other man to do exactly what Vin wanted now. And he discovered anew that sometimes giving – and receiving – was a hell of a lot more fun than taking.

And Buck knew where and how to give, always finding that place that made the fireworks explode behind his eyelids.

No, it wasn't the act that caught Buck off-guard, it was the fact that Vin had asked for it. That Vin was worried about Buck getting pleasure.

Quite the turn-around from earlier, Chris thought. "You think he hasn't done that before?" he asked, letting his hands – both of them, fall to Vin's hips, then down to cover that fine ass.

Vin stiffened at the touch, but he didn't try to pull away. He tilted his head up, though, his eyes searching for Buck's. "Reckon," he answered. "Figure he can set the pace, keep it from getting too rough."

Buck was looking down at Vin, grinning even as they brushed lips again. "Won't let him get outta hand," he promised. "Might want ya to come back sometime."

They were kissing again, Buck's tongue claiming Vin's mouth. Chris felt the frustration anew – this was most certainly not what he'd had in mind when he'd brought Vin along to meet Buck.

Unthinkingly, he gripped harder, feeling Vin squirm. Several fingers dipped into the crevasse between the tensed muscles and Vin twisted, gasping, and breaking from Buck.

"Hey now," Buck caught Chris at the upper arm, frowning, "no need – "

"Sorry," Chris said, and he did mean it. He relaxed his hold, rubbing at the imprint of his thumbs on the outer sweep of Vin's ass. He dropped kisses of his own along the knob of Vin's shoulder, taking time to lick at the sweat he felt there – salty and earthy and raw.

"Got something?" Buck asked, drawing Chris' attention away from his current amusement.

It took him a second to understand the question, then another second to tear himself away. His saddle bags seemed a great distance from them, all the way over on the other side of the room.

By the time he made it there, dug out the bottle of saddle oil, and turned back, Buck had levered himself onto the bed, and drawn Vin to kneel over him. They were kissing again, Vin's hands now vexing Buck's chest yet wandering ever lower.

Chris was almost annoyed again, until he realized that he had a very delightful view of exactly what he wanted: Vin's ass.

He almost dropped the oil.

He was saved from embarrassment – not that they really would have noticed - by the fact that Buck was talking to Vin. The talk was soft, so much so that Chris suspected he wasn't actually supposed to hear, but he listened anyway.

" . . . been a long time? You're a good lucking kid - shouldn't have no trouble finding someone to play with." The words were a little hard to make out as they were still using their mouths for other things.

"Ain't much good at pickin' 'em," came the drawled response, and Chris could visualize the slight quirk of those supple lips. "Usually, 'bout the time I feel a stirring, it's a good idea to be headin' the other way – "

The last word cut off in a moan which was accompanied by a shudder and shift of his back. Chris moved closer and saw that Buck had Vin's erection in hand and was priming it.

The moment was right.

He fumbled the top from the oil, watching as Buck's eyes lit at the sight of Vin's abandon and feeling another stir of jealousy but well aware that this one was pointless; Buck loved the power he had to give people pleasure – there was nothing that excited his friend more than seeing someone enjoying what he was doing to them.

And as much as it annoyed him at times, Chris knew he could never take that from the other man. Perhaps, a little voice suggested, that was why he had wanted to bring Vin along this time – to make Buck a little jealous of Chris.

If so, he almost laughed to himself and dripped oil onto the bedspread, he'd failed at that. Buck and Vin were getting' on better than Chris had expected – hell, better than Chris and Vin were.

He slicked the oil along his hand and fingers, then set the bottle on the dresser. As he turned back, Buck caught his eye.

"All for you," he said softly. "Be easy."

'Easy', Chris sighed with exasperation. But he understood what Buck was saying – and in truth, he didn't want to hurt or scare Vin either. He hadn't considered it until he'd heard the words from Buck's mouth, but the idea of doing this again . . .

Vin didn't seem to notice as Chris dropped one hand to his ass – and truly, with what Buck was giving him, Chris didn't expect the other man to have an awareness until he was stretched wide and filled. Buck knew exactly what felt good and how to get it there.

He was careful though, taking time to let his hands move over the bunched muscles before he started a slow pull, separating them to expose the small circle he wanted.

Vin did shift at the first touch of his oiled finger over the opening, and Chris heard him hiss. Buck was talking to him, words of distraction that Chris didn't bother to register; his attention was on touching, dragging his finger along the hidden seam binding the halves of Vin's body.

Like most people, Vin was sensitive here, almost ticklish, Chris noted, especially as he moved lower, into the fuzz around his balls. They hung low, the sac stretched from the weight of them, and as he touched that delicate skin, Vin growled. Buck's hand was at the base of the oozing shaft, and Chris took a few seconds to rub over his knuckles. It was exciting, both of them concentrating on someone other than each other, some other man.

Past Vin's hip, he caught the flare in Buck's eyes, the big grin telling him that Buck was feeling it too.

He let his finger move back, finding the faint line where the flesh met again and running once more over the small pucker. It twitched as he skimmed it, and got an answering twitch from his cock. But he moved past it and up over the hard bone of Vin's pelvis.

He couldn't stop himself from continuing on up to the point where the curve started in Vin's spine. Something about it fascinated him, and horrified him at the same time. He found himself thinking of seahorses, the funny little way their tails curved, and as he ran more fingers over the bend, it almost seemed spiny.

"Chris," he heard Buck call, and he looked up to find the other two still, Vin's head turned so that he was looking at Chris over one shoulder, a mixture of emotions on his face.

"Leave it," Vin's tone was edgy again, and Chris thought there was a hint of shame under it. "'Lessen you've changed yer mind and want me gone."

"No," he said quickly, jerking his hand back. "I just – " He caught himself, seeing the flush rise again in Vin's face. "Doesn't it hurt?" he blurted, trying not to look back at the turn, trying to hold Vin's gaze.

Surprisingly, Vin lifted the corner of one side of his mouth in his little strange grin. "Like fuck all, 'specially if I've been ridin' all day." But the humor fled almost as quickly as it had lighted, leaving his features vulnerable. It didn't seep into his voice though, which was flat as he said, "Ain't no need to stare at it. I know it ain't nice – "

Chris interrupted him by leaning down and running his tongue over the oil-slick opening to Vin's body.

It worked, not only stopping Vin's words but putting him back into the a state of need with almost stunning speed.

He heard Buck's laugh, felt Vin's back arch, deep, and did it again.

The howl he heard was loud enough to draw attention, and Chris pulled away, nervous.

But Buck was already taking care of it, pulling Vin's head down to capture his mouth. He knew Buck was laughing again, but he was enjoying this at other levels as well.

Chris let his hands pull at Vin's hips, drawing the other man back and away from Buck. The two men parted reluctantly, but before there was time for either to complain, Chris said, "Need something to shut him up. Don't want to attract attention." He climbed up on the bed, kneeling at Buck's feet and pulling Vin to position him.

Vin was looking at Chris again, his eyes dark with need.

Chris ran one hand over Vin's haunch, testing his finger for slickness. The saddle oil was still thick, but he might want more. He pointed to it, and as Buck retrieved it and passed it on, he said, "Why don't you show Buck some proper attention?" As he took the bottle, opening it once more, Vin frowned as if he didn't understand.

Chris turned the oil up, letting several drops splatter on the highest point of Vin's hip, as he said, "Suck him, Vin. Do I need to make it plainer?"

Vin tensed under his hand, and he saw a flicker of anger in the staring eyes. He held Vin's gaze, his own belly twirling, a little like it had in the gun fight. The idea of a fight, the idea of pushing against something goaded his need. That was part of why he had come to Buck.

But Vin wasn't a fighter – not yet, anyway. He was leery of anything that seemed a threat, and his eyes narrowed now.

Again, Buck made the difference. "You don't have to," he murmured, one hand tugging at a strand of Vin's hair. "Could kiss me some more, though –that's right nice."

Even as he turned away from Chris, Vin's features were already softening, and Chris had little doubt that he'd get what he ordered.

Even before the thought was fully formed, Vin bent down and it was Buck's turn to cry out. His noise was softer though, holding a sort of wonder that Chris could understand. Vin had some innate abilities that were apparent the instant his lips closed around flesh.

The oil was trailing down Vin's spine now that he was angled down, and Chris ran his fingers through it, slicking them anew. He let the movement continue, coasting back down toward the part of Vin he wanted.

So small, he thought as he rubbed over it. Tight. He slipped one finger forward, pushing enough to open it.

Vin tensed, the circle of muscle catching, but Chris pushed a little harder. He'd been right, it was tight. He wondered suddenly if Vin had ever been –

"Jesus!" Buck called, arching off the bed.

Vin lifted a little as well, and the new angle gave Chris sudden access. His finger slid deeper, through velvet folds that made him ache to put his cock there.

Vin jerked at the invasion, but he didn't pull away. Instead, after a second, he shifted as though he were pushing back. Whether intentional or not, Chris' knuckles came to rest against trembling flesh.

They were still for several seconds, all three of them trying to hold on to control.

Buck was the first, sitting up enough to cup Vin's jaw in one hand. "You keep that up and I won't be worth much when you need me." He carefully drew Vin's head up and off of him, caressing all the while. "I was wrong before – you know a lot about using your mouth."

Vin shook his head, and Chris had the impression that he might have been trying to say something. Chris moved, though, drawing his hand back slowly but carefully, searching for the small swelling –

When he hit it, Vin jolted and cried out again – not quite as loud this time, but enough to be heard.

"Christ, son," Buck laughed, but he was looking at Chris. "Guess you learned pretty well, too."

Chris accepted the compliment with a spare nod; he was already working a second finger in. He'd managed to keep his need on a simmer, but now, the swelter, the closeness, the idea that Vin was untried, they all coalesced into a boil.

Vin was relaxed in the after-shocks of the first contact, his body unresisting. When Chris touched the slight rise again, he whimpered and thrust back, encouraging.

The bottle of oil was still, somehow, in his hand and he clumsily dribbled some on his erection. The stimulation, after so long with no touch at all, almost put him over the edge. He stopped all movement, not even breathing, willing himself not to ejaculate.

"Chris," Buck called softly this time, and Chris felt movement. Vin grunted, then moved back again, against him, and Chris groaned as well, as his fingers were compressed in a contraction of muscle.

Other fingers touched him, gripping firmly at the base of his erection. He opened his eyes to find Buck kneeling beside him, eyes bright with the awareness that it was almost time.

"Let me help," he said, his mustache twitching, and both hands were on Chris, one preventing release while the other taunted him, spreading the oil liberally.

At the same time, Buck talked, his tone light but the content pointed. "Be easier on his back," he said, "you need to see his face, know when it's too much."

"I'm right here," Vin said, but the annoyance he was trying for was lost in a whimper as Chris flexed his fingers and rubbed over that place. "Can't wait," he said, or seemed to say.

The sound was so close to begging that Chris almost dropped the bottle of oil again.

"Let me take that," Buck suggested, prying the oil from Chris' hand. He still held the base of Chris' cock, and he moved in closer to kiss Chris before saying, "Let him get on his back, pillow under his hips."

Chris nodded, swaying slightly as Vin whimpered yet again.

"Gotta move your hand, slick," Buck urged, "he can't do nothing with you still feeling him up."

Reluctantly, and not before driving Vin to cry out one more time, Chris extracted his fingers, missing the glove-like vise before it was even gone.

He was hardly aware of grabbing Vin's hips and twisting, trying to flip the other man onto his back, until one of Vin's legs almost clipped him in the head, and Buck was calling, "Hey, whoa, easy!"

The constriction around his erection was gone, but he held onto his control even as he pushed Vin's legs apart, moving in between them.

Vin stared up at him, desire and irritation warring in his features, and his lips drew back in a sort of snarl. "This how it's gonna be?" he asked even as he clutched at a pillow, pulling it down to his hips. "You ever ask for something 'stead of taking it?"

Chris jerked the pillow from him, answering with his own growl. "Did ask, didn't I? That's why I'm in the middle, ain't it?"

He wrapped an arm roughly under Vin's lower back, barely remembering the abnormal curve in his spine as he rammed the pillow into place. He'd managed to lose the oil on his fingers in the pillowcase, but he didn't really care; he thought he should probably be more patient, prepare Vin a little more – Christ, he was tight! – but he was past the point where any rational thought could hold sway.

"Easy, Chris," Buck was calling from behind him, his hands rubbing along Chris' back. "Slow, nice and slow."

Vin's hands caught at Chris' upper arms, holding on – holding him back. "Been a while," he said, his tone low. "I ain't in no hurry to be reminded of why."

"How long a while?" Chris asked, one hand going back to the junction of Vin's legs, searching once more for the entrance.

Vin didn't say anything, and Chris smiled slightly. "Ever?" he asked, slipping one finger in again.

At this angle, finding the little nub was harder and it took him several tries before he brushed over it.

While he was searching, Vin answered, "Told ya, ain't no virgin. But after the first time, wasn't in no rush to try it again."

It was then that Chris found what he was looking for and Vin jerked up, his eyes impossibly wide and his own fingers clawing into Chris' flesh.

"Bet you won't mind trying it again now," Chris chuckled, sliding two more fingers in to join the first.

As before, Vin was so relaxed that he gave no intentional resistance. But his body was as close to virginal as Chris suspected it would ever be, and he knew he was stretching Vin to the point of discomfort.

Buck moved up beside Chris. "Maybe I should be in the middle. I'm not quite as – "

"No." Chris' attention was on Vin's face; as he moved within the other man, the rigid lines smoothed and lessened, his enjoyment making him almost primal.

"Chris, he ain't like me, he's not ready for – "

"Shut up, Buck." He hit the spot again, fascinated by the ripple of joy that washed over the unguarded features below him.

He parted his fingers as far as he could, willing Vin to open. He knew his own time was coming too soon, he was too close and seeing Vin, being inside him even in this way, was pulling him ever closer to release.

He stroked the spot again, heard Vin moan as his body accepted more – but still not quite enough.

"Let me help," Buck whispered. His arm slithered past Chris as he took Vin's erection in hand.

Vin arched at the contact, his head twisting on the pillow. He was close, closer than Chris was. Now, Chris knew, it had to be now.

He inched closer, using his free hand to catch the back of Vin's thigh on that side, pushing the slender legs farther apart and settling himself. The hand already in place palmed his own cock and he grunted with the effort to keep himself in check.

"Slow, Chris," Buck said as Chris positioned himself. "Don't rush this – "

"I know what I'm doing," Chris said, or tried to; the words were lost in a hiss as the tip of his erection nestled at the opening, the rounded end dripping its own lubricant inside that welcome heat.

He pushed, slow and easy, careful, deliberate, the delicate ring giving way.

Then the grip on his arms pinched, and he heard Vin's voice calling his name, then Buck's as well, but he was almost there, almost in –

The angle changed, pressure increasing, and he was aware that Vin had moved, trying to stop him.

Instinct took over, and even though a part of him knew better, he thrust his hips, taking.

Vin cried out, the sound harsh in Chris' ear. Something bit into his waist, stopping any further movement, but he was momentarily lost in a haze of physical rapture that overcame all reason.

He was panting, his body locked in a sort of rigor as it was torn between thrusting and stillness. External awareness slowly filtered through, and he heard voices, words.

" . . . all right?"

"Yeah. It's . . . yeah." Someone else taking deep breaths, Vin, he guessed, then with effort, he opened his eyes.

Vin lay beneath him, eyes tearing, gasping, his arms shaking with the effort to hold Chris away.

Buck was pressed tight to Chris' back, his arm digging a line of bruises into his waist.

"Goddammit," Buck said, his voice unnaturally flat as he spoke in Chris' ear. "You got the patience of a bull in heat."

Before Chris could answer, Vin said quietly, "It's all right, Buck. Just need a minute." He drew a deep breath, blinked several times, then slowly settled back into the pillows.

Taking the pressure off, so that with no effort, Chris slid farther in.

Buck's arm was still around him, holding him in place, and he almost whined with frustration. "Need to move," he ground out, rocking, "need to – "

The words turned into a guttural moan as the obstruction was suddenly gone and he was falling into a sheer bliss.

He didn't go all the way, not yet; but as the form enveloping him reached its limit, something brushed against his ribs, the impact just hard enough to make him aware of it.

Once again, he sank a little deeper, almost to the hilt. It wouldn't take much, just a little shove –

Pressure on his back kept him still though, and he grunted as he opened his eyes. He was flush against Vin now, the other's lips mere inches away and so inviting that he couldn't resist.

As before, Vin tasted of whiskey and tobacco – but now he also tasted of Buck, and the tang of it was almost too much.

He drew back, swallowing as he licked at his lips, finding a fire in the eyes catching his. He tried to thrust, needed to feel friction, but the pressure was still at his back, holding him still.

"Get off me, Buck," he snarled, trying to push back. "I gotta move."

"You gonna behave?" Buck asked, and even though the tone was light, Chris heard the undertone of threat.

He was still looking into Vin's eyes, clear and cool as a spring pond fed by mountain run-off. "Yeah," he whispered.

The hand on his back didn't leave but the weight on it lightened. He shifted back just a little, a test, and sighed at the exquisite fit of the body around him.

At the movement, Vin made a little gasp, but it wasn't from pain. His eyes closed, and his head pressed back into the pillow. Those were the only signs he gave before his legs moved as well, drawing higher to wrap around Chris' back.

The deeper push brought the flare of Chris' cock against the internal bump, sending another pulse of excitement through Vin.

Vin cried out, the sound muffled in Chris' shoulder, then, as Chris bore down again, in Chris' mouth.

Vin's arms were around his neck now, holding him close instead of pushing him away, trapping him as completely as Buck had earlier.

But he could move just a little. Just enough.

He canted again, spiraling his hips as much as he could. Hitting the sweet spot was easier, and he did it several times in rapid succession.

Vin writhed under him, against him, more sounds lost in the junction of their lips and tongues, then Vin was clinging like a sodden coat. Chris felt wetness on his belly and knew that Vin was peaking, almost there.

"Let it go, Vin," Buck breathed past Chris' shoulder, the words ruffling Chris' hair.

Vin's mouth tore free of Chris' as he arched back, and Chris corkscrewed again, his own release so close that it was beginning to hurt.

A hand beat against his hip, then belly, knocking its way beneath him to take the column of flesh buried against his abdomen. A different motion, counter point to the forces moving his whole body, razed up and down on his lower body, bruising and burning and he tried to edge away from it without sacrificing any of the good friction.

He wondered at it until he realized it was Buck's hand once more on Vin, adding that extra stimulation. His own hands were still flat on the mattress, holding him above Vin as much as possible.

A cry, not loud but pleading, and he knew in the back of his mind that he wasn't the only one finding edge of bliss to be hurtful. He focused with effort, registered lust-dazed eyes meeting his, imploring.

He didn't remember thinking the words, but they were sharp as he said them.

"Come for me, Vin. Do it for me."

A spurt of wet heat between them, then waves of fast and random stimulation over his cock – and he lost all connection to thought.

Sometime later, pain jolted him back to a reluctant perception of self. Knuckles were digging hard into his belly, and beneath him, Vin was heaving, weakly pushing at him.

He levered himself up, his arms shaking almost too much; one gave out and he started dropping, only to be saved by an arm snaking across his chest.

"My turn," Buck voice sounded low in his ear.

Something nudged at his thighs, and he was spreading his legs before it occurred to him what they were doing.

What Buck was doing.

The first touch was direct, but not rough; even angry, as Chris passingly knew Buck was, the big man couldn't hurt anyone without real reason.

And Vin was still on the bottom, a passive receiver in whatever Buck did to Chris. He was watching, his eyes heavy-lidded but open, his face flushed in the aftermath.

Buck pushed a finger against Chris' opening, the digit long and slick with something – Vin's ejaculate, Chris thought hazily. There was something strangely erotic about the idea of using that for his joining with Buck, and his exhausted cock actually tried to twitch.

"Now, Buck," he wheezed, wiggling his legs a little wider as the heat in his belly tried to kindle again. "Come on!"

"You ain't ready – " Buck started, his voice still low with irritation.

"Don't worry about me," Chris growled, not really worried himself. It might hurt – hell, he knew it would hurt, but that somehow seemed right at the moment.

He almost regretted the thought as Buck's finger withdrew to be replaced by the hot width of his erection. He did regret it when Buck shoved against him, driving in with a firm and steady motion.

"Maybe you're right," the bigger man grunted, his knee pushing against Chris' thighs, "maybe you need to be on the receiving end of a horny, pig-headed bull."

It burned, and after a point, tore, but just when it was at the point of truly hurting, Buck's thick shaft rubbed his own sweet spot and he lost all other sense.

He dropped back to a sort of awareness, but it was distant, just at the periphery of his consciousness. He was aware of Buck pulling him up, holding him tight as the thick shaft drove deeper into him. He was aware of Vin watching him, his eyes losing their glazed look and focusing on Chris' face. He was aware of rocking, forward motion creating one sort of thrill that was countered by a drawing back, both directions sparking a fire deep inside that just wasn't able to catch.

The tempo increased, small grunts at his throat complimented the teeth nipping at him. "Like it like this?" Buck asked between bites. "Like for it to hurt a little?"

Chris groaned as Buck ground against him, wearing at the slight tears.

"Want it harder?" the other man asked, and one hand caught at a nipple, pulling it.

Chris gasped out, recoiling now, his body, still oversensitive in the wake of his orgasm, shivering at the contrast of sensations.

"Buck," Vin called, his voice thin but clear. "Don't – don't hurt him."

"Damned pig-headed . . . " But the words drifted off as the thrusting grew faster, Buck's body near the point of completion.

They'd been together enough for Chris to know what to do and how to do it. Didn't take much effort to shift his weight back so that his arms were around Buck's neck. Didn't take nothing at all for the new angle to draw him down more solidly against the other man, to take him so far into him that he thought they might be one.

"Chris," Buck whined against his ear, his hands no longer pulling but stroking and teasing and loving.

As he had with Vin, he said the words. "Come for me, Buck." But they were softer now, a request and a plea. "Want you."

Buck gasped, then stilled completely, his body locked in climax. His arms clutched Chris close, the swirls of hair on his broad chest tickling into Chris' sweaty back. Chris relaxed into the embrace, comfortable in its familiar possessiveness.

Eventually, Buck drew a deep, loud breath and his body slowly unwound. He slumped, but not forward, not disturbing the balance they shared. His hold lost some of its power, no longer trapping but now holding him with tenderness.

Chris turned his head, seeking, and was rewarded with Buck's lips on his. This kiss held some of the passion of earlier kisses, but none of the ferocity.

"Sorry," Chris said after a while, as the cramps started and the need to change position grew more insistent.

"Ain't me you should be apologizing to," Buck answered, nuzzling against Chris' cheek. He lifted Chris easily, setting him delicately on the bed near Vin before readjusting himself. He sighed with a little wince as he stretched his long legs, his eyes finding Vin.

Somehow, Vin had made it to a sitting position, his legs drawn up to his body, his arms wrapped around them as though he were cold. He wasn't though; a fine sheen of sweat glittered along his forehead, and his hair was streaked brown where it rested on his skin.

His eyes were wide again, bottomless, and Chris wondered what he was thinking.

"You okay, Vin?" Buck asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah." Vin blinked, as if he'd been very far away. He looked away from Chris toward Buck and the odd distance in the look faded.

Buck shifted, crawling past Chris and toward the head of the bed, toward Vin. "You sure?" he persisted, and his hands fell easily onto Vin's shoulders. "Let me see if he hurt you."

But Vin was shaking his head, his legs drawing more tightly against his torso. "I'm fine. Better 'n fine." He tried for a smile, and it almost came.

At least enough to give Buck pause.

"Vin?" Chris asked.

Vin looked back to him, but it was slow, reluctant. He wasn't trying to smile now, and Chris saw something else, something a little unsettling.

"I am sorry. If I hurt you, you should let – "

"Ain't hurt." It was flat, but not angry. "You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."

Chris studied him, trying to see past the tight conviction.

"Y'all sure look good together," Vin said more softly, and this time, the smile did come, slow and sweet and little sad.

Buck leaned in, one hand slipping up the back of Vin's neck, under his hair. "Look better with you," he said just before he found Vin's mouth.

Chris looked up at them and smiled. He hadn't felt this relaxed since – the last time he had been with Buck.

Hs old friend was as open with Vin as he had been with Chris; unlike Chris, though, who had come to expect it, Vin seemed unsure, eventually pulling away.

Buck didn't take offense though, letting his fingers card through Vin's hair as he looked back to Chris. "You okay, stud? I was a bit rough myself."

Chris snorted, stretching a little, until the pull of his skin stung. "Bull in heat, huh," he grumbled.

Buck smiled back at him, his expression tender. "Glad you came looking and found me," Buck said quietly as he drew back. "But next time, don't wait so long. I might be able to handle ya, but that's only cause we done it for so long."

Chris nodded, scratching at his belly, and recalling why there were splotches of fluid there.

Buck smiled, and as ever, pushed himself around Vin and off the bed to stagger over to the water pitcher and basin on the chest of drawers. "So everybody's good?" he asked once more as he wet the washing cloth Chris had left there, then turned and handed it back to Chris.

Chris took the rag and wiped at himself before pushing himself up to a sitting position. He looked over as Buck settled on the other side of the bed, putting Vin between them.

The younger man sat still, his eyes closed now, but Chris knew he wasn't asleep.

"Vin?" Buck asked again, and he touched the other's temple again. "You in there?"

The sigh was barely perceptible, but Chris and Buck shared a quick glance, both smiling at Vin's reluctance.

"Yeah," he said, opening his eyes to look at them. "I'm still here."

Chris held out the rag, offering it as Vin looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something there again, that look that unsettled Chris, and before he caught himself, he said, "Wasn't worth it, huh." The sting of disappointment – of failing – spiked deep in his chest. He'd wanted it to happen again, more than he'd known.

After a few seconds, Vin shrugged a little. "Didn't say it wasn't worth it."

Chris tilted his head, confused. "You saying it was?"

Vin shrugged again, but there was a little twitch to his lips. "Yeah, I reckon it was."

The sting ebbed, and something warm and familiar settled in the pit of Chris' stomach.

"Worth doing again?" Buck asked from the other side of the bed.

Vin slowly took his gaze from Chris' to meet Buck's. This time, the smile settled on his face. "Iffen you want to."

Buck smiled back, then slowly, he leaned in and kissed Vin - a thank-you, and a promise.

Chris watched them, something changing around him.

As they drew away from each other, he said, "So, we need to go find Nathan and this friend of his, start putting this plan together." He scratched at his belly again even as he crawled to the side of the bed and stumbled off.

Buck was shaking his head as Chris came around the bed, looking for his clothes. "And I thought you had no romance," he said, but he was grinning, and beside him, Vin was laughing slightly. It was an easy sound, one Chris could get used to the same way he was used to Buck's.

"Got work to do," Chris said shortly, stepping into his pants. "And if you're riding with me, best get your clothes on."

Buck shook his head again, but he rose off the bed, stopping only to run a hand over the top of Vin's head, then giving him a hand to tumble out of the bed.

They dressed efficiently, Chris answering Buck's questions about the Indians and their enemies. He was slipping on his gun belt, Buck talking about some group of Confederate soldiers he'd heard about that were wandering the territories, looking to recreate the war, when Vin stepped near to retrieve his rifle.

With a casual motion, Chris reached out and caught Vin's elbow, pulling him near. When Vin looked at him, he paused for just a second, then stepped in, kissing him. Like Buck, he wanted this to be affectionate, a sign of trust.

The lips under his were stiff at first, and he was hurt. They hadn't been reluctant with Buck.

He felt a hand on his then, and the lips parted slightly. Not passion, not searing, but a clear statement of trust.

When they parted, Vin's eyes were closed, his body resting warmly on Chris'. Without a thought, Chris straightened a crooked suspender as his nose brushed along Vin's cheek.

"You boys ready?" Buck asked, standing at the door. "We got us some ghosts to find." His eyes twinkled, and as he turned the knob, he asked, "Junior, just how did you know which lady's room I was in?"


End file.
